Flickering Shadows
by WitchGirl
Summary: Full summary inside Retreating outdoors in bitter December after a silent but unforgivable feud with his friends, Ron is lost unto himself, but not to the Death Eaters that find him. A test of friendship, loyalty and both emotional and mental strength.
1. Into the Abyss

Flickering Shadows

**Summary:** Events of his fifth year startle Harry into practicing mental magic (far from mental math). While Harry's meditating, Ron accidentally breaks and he and Hermione have a nearly unforgivable argument. Harry, snapping out of his meditation, flashes Ron a scarring look– one Ron cannot forget easily. Retreating outdoors in bitter December, he is lost unto himself, but not to the Death Eaters that find him. A test of friendship, loyalty and both emotional and mental strength.

**_Author's Notes:_** Few stories emphasize the close bond between our three main characters without something leading to romance. I'm telling you right now: There is no love interests, nor is there meant to be any implication of lust in this tale. This is a simple story of strength of character and strong wills as our friends battle their most traumatizing battle yet– Without falling in love with each other.

  
  
Chapter One: Into the Abyss  
  
_How do you leave the past behind when it keeps finding ways to get to your heart? It reaches way down deep and tears you inside out 'til you're torn apart._

He would be dead for hours. Sometimes, Ron would sit right in front of him and just stare at him. Ron, too, would sit there for hours, just waiting for any sign of life. But Harry never awoke, at least not when Ron was there.

Ron often wondered where his friend had gone and who this stranger was in his place. Much to Hermione's dismay, Harry was neglecting his homework. He would go to class and pay attention and do the class work, but as soon as he returned to the dormitory, he was lost to the world. Ron wanted nothing more than to find him again.

The teachers didn't seem to mind it much. McGonagall too often turned a blind eye when Harry would be missing homework and confused classmates would explain how he would sit silent on his bed for hours on end every night. Hagrid gave a sad and wistful smile whenever Ron and Hermione explained why Harry could not join them in their visits to his cabin. And Dumbledore... Dumbledore encouraged it.

"Harry is working on tuning his mind," he explained to Ron and Hermione. "He was shaken by events of last year and he feels he needs to be ready for whatever the future brings."

And it was obvious to Ron and Hermione that Dumbledore agreed with Harry. He tried so hard to prepare Harry, although Hermione had pointed something out to Ron once.

"No matter how he tries, how often he preps him, I see the same look in his eye that I often saw in Oliver Wood's when he tried to pep talk his team before a match: Dumbledore knows he can try all he wants, but even the best trained soldier in the world can trip over a knot in the ground and crack his skull open."

It was true, Ron realized. Dumbledore would often pull Harry aside quietly and question him and though Harry's face was determined and Dumbledore's reassuring, there was a glint of fear in the old headmaster's eyes.

Ron wasn't too sure about Hermione or Dumbledore, or anyone else for that matter, but he was worried for his friend's sanity. Surely too much playing with mental magic would damage a teenager's brain?

"It's not playing," Hermione muttered one evening, hiding behind a war novel while Harry meditated by the fire. "It's a dignified practice and exercise at toning one's mental abilities."

"And what do you know about it, eh Hermione?" Ron snapped, almost accusingly. Hermione glared at Ron over her novel, her eyes narrow.

"It's a grueling task, and it takes a long time to master, but by the end of it Harry will be skilled in the art of not only Occlumency, but Legilemency as well. His senses will be magnified, his mind will be more aware, empathy and telepathy will become like second nature–"

"Telepathy?!" Ron cried, standing up. "Hell, I don't want Harry in my head!" Ron turned to the youth, who sat cross-legged on the carpet and oblivious. "I mean, no offense man, I trust you and all, but I mean honestly! The mind is nothing to be messed with!"

"Maybe _your_ mind," Hermione said, coolly. "But I think it will be quite useful to him."

"Oh yeah?" Ron shrieked, his voice soaring into ranges he didn't know he had. Coughing, he continued. "Oh yeah? Well, I think he's wasting his time, frankly. I think he should get his head out of the past and into the present! If he thinks that doing this will bring Sirius back, then–"

Hermione slammed her book so loud, disturbed pigeons fluttered from the windowsill.

"How _dare_ you so _insensitively_ even _think_ to say such offensive things about Harry, or worse, about Sirius!" she fumed, now standing.

"I didn't say _anything_ offensive towards _anyone._ I'm just stating facts! Sirius is dead, and Harry knows that. Keeping his head in the clouds and not in this castle will not do him any good." Ron said this quietly, not wanting to wake up his companions in their dorms on a Friday night. But his temper rose steadily as he continued, as did his volume. "You say this will help him be more aware of his surroundings, and yet he has no bloody clue you and I are even talking about him even though he's sitting right next to us! You say he'll be prepared, but you've even _admitted_ to me that even _Dumbledore_ knows he's not totally safe!"

"Nothing will help him be totally safe, Dumbledore understands that!" Hermione said. "But this will help Harry, it will help him be ready for Voldemort– oh for heaven's sake, Ron, cut it out!" Ron had flinched involuntarily and Hermione was too fed up with his attitude to care. She continued. "It will help him be prepared for Voldemort's next attack, which will be directed towards Harry's mind because they are already psychically connected anyway. Harry and Dumbledore both know that."

"But what if he attacks tomorrow, eh Hermione?" Ron retorted, furious. "What if You-Know-Oh all right, what if V..._Voldemort_ just suddenly broke into the castle and _killed_ Harry when he was in one of these clueless trances? What _if_, Hermione!"

Hermione was stunned. She said, quietly, "I cannot believe you just said that. I cannot believe you just _suggested_... Voldemort in Hogwarts, killing... killing _Harry!_"

"Well it's a possibility, isn't it?!?!" Ron yelled at the top of his lungs. Hermione was taken aback. She fell back into her arm chair. She stared at him, dumbstruck and speechless, but a burning scorn blazed in her eyes.

"I'm sorry you feel that way," was all she could say, but she managed to say it quite bitterly.

"Sorry I feel that way?" Ron almost laughed. "Sirius is dead, You-Know-Who isn't, and Harry _will_ die if he doesn't come back down to earth! Look, I bet he _still_ doesn't know we're talking about him. 'Allo Harry!" Ron was hysterical. He waved his hands frantically in front of Harry's closed eyes. "Wake up, Harry! You there, Harry? You just won the Quidditch World Cup, Harry, what are you gonna do now?"

Ron turned back to Hermione, who was staring at Ron with what seemed to him as pitiful disgust. He ignored it. "You see?" he said. "Deaf as a post and blind as a bat. And if he doesn't snap out of it, he'll be dead as a doornail!"

The room was silent and all that could be heard was the crackle of the dying fire.

Finally, Hermione said, in a cold hard hiss, "You're wrong, Ron. You're disgusting and twisted and wrong. And that's all you'll ever be. Wrong."

Ron was bitten by Hermione's saber-toothed words. He smiled and was about to hysterically laugh it off when the fire suddenly and mysteriously died. Both pairs of eyes turned to the fire, and to Harry, who was now facing them both, his eyes wide open. He looked blankly from Hermione to Ron. His gaze lingered on Ron. And Ron, as if entranced, could not look away from those deep green eyes.

Slowly, Harry's eyes narrowed and his lips were closed and set in a straight line, although it seemed almost as if Harry were baring his teeth to Ron, invisible behind bleeding red lips. His stare was frozen and as sharp as a cutlass and that single look pierced Ron worse than Hermione's words ever could.

Without a word, he spun on his heal and marched out the portrait hole, down the hall, and didn't look back until he was in the bitter winter.

Angry and alone, Ron walked as far as his legs would take him. There had been a blizzard the night before, and the snow was still fresh and deep on the ground. The depth of it was unusual for the UK. Whenever Ron took a step, his leg would sink into the crystal white up to the middle of his shin. He wasn't dressed properly to be out in the cold, but he'd rather face the frozen winds of the outdoors then the frozen atmosphere of the Gryffindor common room.

By the time he got to Hogsmeade, his legs were soaked and he was shivering. But Ron couldn't care less. He was so blind with frustration and confusion.

Hermione. The nerve of her. But perhaps he shouldn't have been so harsh in his word choice. Perhaps he had been a little disrespectful... But he was just so angry, with her, with Harry, and maybe even with Sirius. 

Sirius. That really _was_ a sensitive subject.

"God damn it!" Ron cursed, kicking at the snow outside of an old abandoned store. "Why did he do this to Harry? Why did he do this to us?" The tears seemed to turn to frost as they trailed down Ron's cheek. They bitterly stung his face, but he quickly wiped them away with his sleeve. If Harry had only never had that dream... If Harry had waited a bit longer, shouted Sirius's name a little louder, would he have heard and come running to reassure Harry that he was fine? And if Sirius had lived, would Harry be killing himself with all this mental stress?

Harry was more of a brother to Ron than the twins, Bill, Charlie, or Percy ever had been. But these days, Harry barely said two words to Ron, let alone try and talk out his issues with him. And Ron knew Harry had problems. Everyday, he hid from them in meditation. And it was killing him. It was a parasite, eating him up inside and soon, he'd be just a shell and that shell would eventually crumble. And that was what Ron was worried about most, not Hermione, not even Voldemort. Ron was worried that Harry was doing himself irreparable damage. It was something a brother could sense.

But then, what was that look Harry had shot him? That parasite, glaring at him from the pits of what was left of Harry's soul? Or Harry's own frustration that he'd been disturbed from his beloved and distracting meditation? Had Harry indeed heard the unimaginable things Ron had said about his deceased godfather? Was he, like Hermione, angry at Ron for his sharp tongue?

Ron did not know what that eerily unnerving glower meant. And it was quite possible that he would never know.

Ron reached into the inside pocket of his robe and pulled out a valuable possession he always carried with him. It was a picture, taken two summers ago, in the living room at Sirius's house. Fred held Ginny back by her arms and she was fighting to get free while George was ready to pour a bucket of mop water on her head. Hermione pretended to be unaware as she continued to dust off the curtains. Harry was on the floor, already dripping with water, having been Fred and George's first victim when Ginny had tried to come to his rescue.

Best of all, standing in the doorway, refusing to get involved or even announce his presence and looking incredibly amused was Sirius.

Ron had taken that picture. And it was taken before everything started to go really wrong.

But the picture confused him now. When Hermione had seen it, she had once been afraid that the wrong people would see it, and discover Sirius. But it didn't matter anymore. Nothing mattered anymore.

A cruel wind blew from behind Ron and sent shivers up his spine.

Drawing his wand slowly, he carefully turned to meet the black shadow before him. He looked up at his attacker with defeated eyes and didn't even try to shout a curse. He just fell limp before his captor.

"What were you and Ron arguing about?" Harry asked quietly. He stood over her as she cowered behind her novel in her arm chair. Her legs were curled under her and she refused to meet Harry's eye.

"...Stupid, really..." Hermione muttered as her eyes flickered back and forth over the pages.

"I don't care how stupid it is," Harry said, calmly, his shadow engulfing Hermione's reading light like a hungry moon eclipsing the sun. "I could feel you fighting through my training. There was a lot of negative energy coming from you two..." Harry paused and, keeping his eyes on Hermione, he tilted his head slowly down towards his chest and leaned in closer to her, putting his hands on the arms of the chair. She shivered. His presence had grown more commanding over their sixth year. She wondered how powerful it would be by the end of it.

"It... It wasn't about me, was it?" he asked her, his voice almost a whisper.

"Y-Your name m-might have come... come up once or twice, sure," Hermione said, still refusing to look up. Harry smiled.

"That was a lie. Even without my practice, I could tell. Don't stutter, Hermione, it gives you away."

Fed up, Hermione slammed her book shut for the second time that evening and stared into Harry's eyes with her own commanding gaze. They were inches away from each other.

"Alright, you're right, it was about you," Hermione said. "If you want to know the truth, he's worried about your... What do you call it? Training? And frankly..." Hermione faltered and looked away from Harry again. "Frankly... I am too... a little..."

Harry straightened. "Why?" he asked, confused.

"Don't get defensive about it!" Hermione said quickly, her face flushing. She rose to her feet and started pacing around the room. "I mean, I was defending you! I said that... that your meditation would help you, your _training _as you say will prepare you for things normal people wouldn't be prepared for, but honestly, Harry..." Hermione stopped pacing and looked directly at Harry.

"I really think you're too young," she whispered.

"Well, you've got to start young!" Harry said with a patient laugh, as though stating the obvious to a young child. "Your mind is still developing, and if it helps to develop these abilities when the mind is still growing because–"

"You said it yourself," Hermione said. "You're mind is still growing. _You_ are still growing. Harry, your brain can only handle so much pressure. And you never relieve any of it either! One day, Harry... One day, I swear you're going to burst. Don't you want to be healthy? Because really, your health is more important than your meditation. And this is unhealthy!"

Harry was beginning to be bothered by Hermione. "There is nothing unhealthy about this," he said through gritted teeth.

"Oh really?" Hermione laughed and crossed her arms. "Constant practice, always right after school, ignoring your homework, for God's sake! You don't _talk_ anymore Harry and we miss you!"

"Hermione," Harry said, eyes on the floor helplessly shaking his head. He looked up at her. "I just can't..." but he trailed off. His head snapped to the window. Hermione looked at him curiously. He turned back to her.

"Ron's gone," he uttered, his eyes wide.

Hermione crossed her arms again and rolled her eyes. "No, really? I was here too when he stormed out on us, Harry, did you forget?"

"No," Harry said firmly, staring at Hermione fearfully. "I mean he's really gone."


	2. Breathe Deep

Chapter Two: Breathe Deep

Don't breathe too deep, don't think all day. Dive into work, drive the other way. That drip of hurt, that pint of shame, goes away just play the game.

Bruised and broken, Ron lolled like a rag doll in a black chair covered in a cheap, chipping black paint. It was crudely made and quite uncomfortable. The only thing that kept him from falling out of the chair were his roped binds, which were as tight as death. The room was dark and all he could see was flickering shadows across the wall. There was an odd hissing sound Ron felt came from the shadows themselves. He was vaguely aware that he was shirtless, and that his trousers were still wet from the snow outside. He felt as though he had been knocked on the back of the head. Everything was spinning. Perhaps he had been drugged.

A sliver of light slithered like a serpent into the depths of Ron's cell. He heard a door close and once more, he could see nothing.

"You are in special quarters," said a voice Ron might have recognized. "Solitary confinement. We need you, Mr. Weasley."

"Need...?"

"Yes," said the voice. "But... don't take it _personally_, old chap_._ It is strictly business, after all."

"A businessman..." Ron muttered, seeming to understand.

"Yes..." said the Businessman, the smile evident in his prim voice. "That I am, Mr. Weasley. You will remain here only as long as you refuse to divulge the information we need. When we are through with you, we shall end this pointless suffering of yours. In the meantime, consider yourself my guest."

"This is how... you treat your guests?" Ron was panting, as if he'd just run five kilometers.

The Businessman was amused. "This is how we treat guests like you."

"Lucky me..."

"I _would_ consider yourself lucky if I were you," said the Businessman, with an ominous hint to his tone. "If you do not give me the information we require, I may have to resort to... desperate measures." There was a hint of glee in his last two words. He _wanted_ to resort to desperate measures.

"Now, Mr. Weasley, lets just see how tough you are."

Ron barely had time to brace himself before the ropes chafing at his wrists became the least of his pains.

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Mrs. Weasley stumbled through the door at ten o'clock in the morning, her arms full of grocery bags.

"Alright!" she called to the empty house. "I'm back!"

Remus Lupin came out of the kitchen, smiling. He took some of the bags.

"Thank you, Molly," he said, kindly as he walked into the kitchen. "The Order really loves your cooking. Things wouldn't be the same without it."

"It's almost Christmas vacation," said Mrs. Weasley. "My boys will be home soon. All of them." Mrs. Weasley grinned. Even Percy had agreed to come home for the holidays. She had invited him on a whim, and he had accepted, rather apologetically. But he kept his pride intact, of course. Percy always found a way to admit defeat without falling from his high platform of arrogance.

"Of course," said Remus. "And you have to have plenty of food in the house, especially when Fred and George get here." Mrs. Weasley laughed.

"I feel like making a big meal tonight," she said with a grin. "I feel like today is going to be good day and– Heavens, what's that?"

A tawny owl was pecking anxiously at the kitchen window. As Remus walked over to open the window, Tonks appeared in the doorway, with long, straight, shockingly purple hair, in her pajamas. She was yawning.

"What is that awful racket?" she complained. She saw the owl and glared at it. "That bird would not leave my window alone! It woke me up. I finally threw a book at it– oh, don't worry, Molly, I mended the glass shards of the window, it's fine now."

"Have you really been sleeping this long?" Mrs. Weasley said, looking appalled. Tonks looked sheepish and a bit guilty.

"Well, there was this party last night, and–"

"Uh oh, Molly," Remus frowned as he opened the window and took the letter from the owl's foot. "It's a black envelope– from the Ministry. That means bad news." He handed the black envelope to Mrs. Weasley, who noted the silver writing that hastily had her name scribbled on the paper. She opened the letter and read it slowly.

Mrs. Weasley read the paper in curiosity, expecting the worst. She continued to read the paper and her mouth went dry. Apparently, the worst wasn't bad enough.

"What is it, Molly?" Tonks asked. Remus took the parchment and read it over, with Tonks reading over his shoulder.

Dear Mum

This will come as a shock for you, so prepare yourself. I just received word at 12:03 this morning that something's gone awry at Hogwarts. Mum, please, do not panic. But at around ten o'clock yesterday night, December third, Ron stormed out of Gryffindor Common room. He was reported missing by Harry Potter, who has been practicing mental magic and suspected something was amiss. Dumbledore immediately wrote to the Ministry after checking that Ron was definitely not on the grounds. Normally, to file a Ministry Missing Wizard's Report there needs to be a twenty-four hour gap, however when mental magic is involved, it can be filed much sooner. Mum, Ron is now on top of a long list of missing wizards. But I can assure you that his case is of the highest priority. Dumbledore has seen to that.

Inconceivably and sincerely sorry

Your son,

Percy Weasley 

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The Great Hall the next morning was silent. Students avoided Harry and Hermione like the plague. Even the staff table was hushed. Dumbledore wasn't even there. Hermione could barely hear the whispered rumors above the quiet clattering of forks on plates.

"I can't take this, Harry," she whispered. "I just... I'll break, I know I will."

"Things will turn out fine," Harry said, playing with his eggs.

There was a rush of wings and barely anyone even looked up to see if they'd received any letters from one of the army of owls invading the Hall. One swooped down in front of Harry, who calmly untied the letter from it's foot and looked at it, nonchalantly.

"It's from Mrs. Weasley," he said with a wan smile as he pocketed it.

"Aren't you going to read it?" Hermione asked him, watching him expectantly. Harry merely continued to try and eat his eggs. Hermione bit her lip and leaned across the table on her elbows.

"Can you... reach him?" she whispered, hopefully. Harry looked up from his eggs. Her eyes were desperately wide and she reached for his hands across the table and seized them. "Oh can you, Harry? Perhaps all your training has paid off after all, I'm sorry I doubted you, I really am, I know you're precocious, I just–"

"Hermione..." Harry said guiltily, pulling his hands away from her and refusing to look away from his plate. "I can't. I can't do it. Alright?"

"But are you sure?" Hermione asked, hopefully. "I mean, if you just try–"

"Ialreadydid..." Harry mumbled. Hermione frowned.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"I said I already did!" Harry said, rather loudly, his silverware clattering onto the table. A few faces turned to look at him. He lowered his voice. "I... Last night, in the dormitory. I sat on my bed and I tried, I did, but... But I can't, Hermione. He's out of my range. I can't sense him at all." Harry looked down, defeated.

"That doesn't mean anything," Hermione said stubbornly. "It doesn't mean he's dead or lost or gone forever... he's just... out of your range..." Hermione trailed off. After a few minutes of silence, Dumbledore entered and walked swiftly to the staff table. What quiet gossip there was halted abruptly as he took his place at the staff table and called them to attention.

"Saturday morning and so many faces this early!" Dumbledore cried with a light laugh. "Well, it's good to see all of you early birds... I would just like to dispel a few rumors. Yes, it is true that the sixth year Ron Weasley is missing. No, it is not true that he was eaten by the giant squid, kidnaped by giants, dismembered by dragons or even stolen by Lord Voldemort. We do not know what has become of him at this point in time and I would prefer it if, for his friends' sake, speculation was kept to a minimum. Thank you."

And with that, he sat down and started serving himself some fruit.

Harry sighed, stood up, and walked furiously out of the hall. Hermione watched him, remorsefully, then stood up quietly and slowly followed him out.

When she reached the Entrance Hall, he was nowhere to be seen. She had just deducted that he'd headed back to Gryffindor Tower to do some more meditating when she saw that the oak door was ajar. She smiled to herself and went outside.

The morning was brisk and the sky was clear. The sun was out, and it was unusually warm for December, especially this quickly after a blizzard. The snow was melting, but slowly, and soon it would be slush. Sometimes, Hermione marveled at how quickly the weather could change. Or how quickly _anything_ could change for that matter.

She noticed a black lump in the middle of the field and slowly made her way over to it. Harry lay, spread-eagled on the ground, a ed spot on a of a blanket of white. Hermione kneeled down next to him, but he wasn't looking at her, he was looking at the sky.

"Harry, don't lay there, you'll catch cold," Hermione told him, noting his saturated robes.

"I'm making a snow angel," Harry told her stubbornly, squinting up at the sun above him. "Can't you see it?"

"Yes, Harry, I can see your snow angel," Hermione said with a smile, humoring him.

"Better look now," Harry said. "It'll be ruined when I try to get up and look at it. Funny thing about snow angels. They're perfect when you make them on the ground, but you always screw it up when you try and admire your work."

"Harry, if that's supposed to be some sort of metaphor for what's going on right now, I must say I really don't get it," said Hermione. She offered him her hand. "Here, I'll help you up."

But Harry didn't take Hermione's hand. Instead, he reached for his wand in his pocket.

"Harry, what are you doing?" Hermione asked him.

"_Wingardium Leviosa_!" Harry declared, pointing distinctly at himself. He rose out of the snow and looked over his shoulder at his creation. "Hey, would you look at that, it worked."

"Harry, you _know _we're not supposed to use magic–"

"In the corridors," Harry said, still looking back at his snow angel. "But we're outside."

Hermione scowled at him. "I was _going_ to say we're not allowed to use magic outside of ."

"Don't care," Harry said, airily, as he floated above the snow. "I should probably get down now. Hermione, take my hand."

But the second Hermione touched Harry's hand to lead him down, he fell in a clump and destroyed the snow angel.

"Tough luck," said Hermione.

"It was bound to happen anyway," Harry said, sadly. He sat up and leaned back on his hands. Hermione once more offered her hand.

"Let me help you up," Hermione said, insistently. Begrudgingly, Harry took her offered help and let himself be pulled to his feet. "Harry, I feel as though you're talking in tongues. A year ago, had I even have _mentioned_ something metaphorical, you would have told me to stop beating around the bush. And now, you're throwing them out left and right and no one knows what you mean anyway!"

"That wasn't a metaphor, Hermione," said Harry. "It was a fact. Everything starts out perfect until someone screws it up."

"If you think you screwed this up then no amount of meditation will save you from your stupidity." Hermione touched Harry's arm, sympathetically. "Harry... Listen. You have got to stop blaming yourself for these things. I mean, really... You're hurting yourself more than you have to. If anything... If anything, _I_ should be the one to blame," she said, sadly, withdrawing her hand. "I was the one who was arguing with him in the first place–"

"Defending me!" Harry said, adamantly. But his countenance softened and he sighed. "I suppose I really shouldn't be spending _so_ much time on my practice."

"Come on," Hermione said with a soft smile. "Let's go back inside."


	3. Don't Let Go

Chapter Three: Don't Let Go

Just tighten those shoulders, just clench your jaw 'til you frown. Just don't let go, or you may drown.

Harry sat on his bed cross-legged and looked at Mrs. Weasley's letter long and hard.

_My Dearest Harry,_

I can only imagine what you must be going through, dear. It's so quiet here. And Tonks's attempts at a casual joke only result in an increased amount of silence. Recently, she's stopped trying, poor dear. Every time Remus walks through the front door he seems to have one more premature wrinkle, one more gray hair, and one more scar on his soul. But his eyes hold something strange, an unbreakable determination to stop all this tragedy. He's been working with Percy at the Ministry every day since he heard. He comes home later than Alastor, and you know that old workaholic. If only you could see him, dear, he wishes so much to see you... He loses more sleep than I do over this. I never realized just how much he cared about my son. That man has a lot of heart.

Arthur says hello, dear, and to be strong. You need courage, now more than ever. You are a very strong boy, and you need to display that strength. I'm sure you are. I'm so proud of you, and so worried about you... 

Percy says that Ron's case is of top priority, but I don't know if he's just saying that to reassure me or not. He and Arthur have both been telling me of disappearances all year, of Ministry officials and their family members. And I never told you this, but even more recently we've even lost a member of the Order. Hestia Jones disappeared about a week before Ron did. Percy says the list has grown quite long. To think that Ron is at the top of it is just being stupid...

My heart aches to think of you in this situation. No one deserves this pain, Harry, least of all you.

Your concerned guardian,

Molly Weasley

There were a few things in this letter that interested Harry. For one, Mrs. Weasley signed the letter as his guardian. It made him smile and something warm rose from the pit of his stomach and filled his face. He knew she wanted to put something less formal. Second, like Mrs. Weasley, Harry was quite surprised by Lupin's attitude towards the whole thing. But he did understand that 'unbreakable determination' Mrs. Weasley had seen in his eyes. Lupin had been through plenty of hardships in his life. Harry had seen him lay back and take Sirius's death like it was nothing, and it had made him angry at the time. But, Harry supposed, Lupin was sick of stepping back and letting all these things happen. He wanted them to stop, just as Harry wished they would stop. But he didn't feel like they would.

Thirdly, Harry noted the valuable information Mrs. Weasley had unintentionally given him in that letter. Immediately, he pulled out a new piece of parchment, and began to write.

_Percy–_

I have an urgent and possibly unethical request to ask of you...

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Alone in his coffin, Ron was left to his thoughts. He hadn't stood up in days and he felt as though his legs were dead. For company, all he had were the hissing shadows on the wall, which sneaked about as though whispering to each other about this strange redheaded boy.

Healed and open scars scattered his chest, and Ron couldn't bare to look down for right above his stomach, there was an unusual bump, something protruding almost through his skin. He could feel it rubbing up against him from the inside. His rib was broken, though the Death Eaters made sure that his lungs were not punctured. They would torture him to the brink of death and then leave him for a day or two only to heal slightly. Once, the Businessman had gotten a little carried away and administered a curse which could have killed Ron, although he realized this and immediately healed the boy enough to keep him out of death's grip.

But Ron knew that eventually, they would stop healing him.

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Harry was looking quite ill, in Hermione's eyes. Pallid and gray, he would make his way to everyday blindly. She had worked out his routine. Every morning at the same time, he would wake up, go to , come back to the common room, do his homework, and then meditate for the rest of the evening. Except on Wednesdays and Fridays when he had Quidditch practice, and weekends when he would work on projects or talk to the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Hermione was happy to see him become more involved in his school work, but it was almost as if he'd been to war and back again. He did everything half-heartedly. She didn't think he put effort into anything anymore.

At eleven o'clock at night, Harry was writing a letter by the fire when Hermione came down to check on him.

"Harry..."

He looked up from his writings and smiled wanly at her.

"Hey," he said in a small voice.

"Who are you writing to?" she asked him. Harry looked at his letter and sighed with frustration. He took the letter, tore it into pieces, and threw them into the fire.

"Ron," he said with a sigh, staring at the leaping flames. Hermione looked curious. Harry noticed her looking at him and explained. "I mean, sometimes... Sometimes, it helps to say the things you couldn't say before, you know?" Harry sighed and slouched in his chair. Suddenly, he straightened up, his eyes wide. "Hey! Hey, wait! What if I sent him a letter?"

Hermione looked confused. "Harry...?" Harry leapt out of his seat and balled his hands into anxious fists.

"What if I write a letter and got Hedwig to deliver it to him?" Harry's face was agleam with excitement. He couldn't believe he hadn't thought of it sooner. "I mean, all this time we've been thinking magic, but what if we just use the simple homing skills of a talented bird–"

"Harry!" Hermione grabbed the hysterical boy by his shoulders. "Calm down. Don't you think that if the solution were that simple Dumbledore would have done it by now?"

Harry's shoulders slumped. Hermione did not let him go.

"If you can't reach Ron, what makes you think Hedwig can?" she whispered, sympathetically.

"But... But Hedwig _knows_ Ron, she knows his scent and what not. She'd know where–"

"Listen, Harry, Hedwig needs at least some idea of where she's going. It's not that easy," said Hermione.

Harry sighed, defeated, and fell into a chair.

"I just don't know what to do..." he whispered.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ron was becoming anxious. He had not seen life in what seemed like three days and he felt like it was driving him insane. The shadows began to speak to him. They became his comrades. But Ron could draw little comfort from their stygian words.

"What are you waiting for?" they'd ask him. "You know they will kill you eventually. Why does it matter how long it takes?"

"The longer it takes, the more weary they become," Ron said. "If I can hold out long enough, they'll eventually kill me out of frustration and get nothing from me."

"What is it they want," asked one shadow, in curiosity. "Why are they so keen to pull it out of _you._ Does it have to do with Harry Potter?"

"They think I know things," Ron said. "They think I can tell them things about Harry. They want to use me to get to him. But they don't know..."

"What?" hissed another shadow, anxiously. "What do they not know?"

Ron looked away from the shadows and thought of his friend. He would not tell these betraying shadows what he would never tell his captors.

"They don't know," Ron repeated, shaking his head, drawing power from his knowledge and strength from his friendship. It was a dismal little secret, but it made him smile. A new hope was born and the seeds of a new determination took root. "They don't know."

"What? What?" hissed the shadows.

"They will never know," Ron said. "Never."

The door opened and she shadows retreated to the farthest corners where the light could not reach. In the door stood a gigantic silhouette of what Ron could only guess was a man. He stepped into the room and closed the door.

"I have been informed that you are being difficult," said the strange man. "I have been called in by my superiors to try and teach you a lesson. Now, for a basic introduction. What is your name, boy?"

Ron said nothing. He merely kept his eyes closed. He knew if he looked at the man, he would be enveloped by fear, and fear makes people do stupid things. He could hear the man rhythmically walking around his chair. He was standing right behind Ron.

"I said _what is your name, boy!_" Through his eyelids, Ron saw a flash of light and felt a searing pain on his back as though he had been whipped.

"Ron Weasley," he groaned.

"That's better," said the man, sounding quite satisfied.

"What is your name?" Ron asked, daringly. He still refused to look at him. The man laughed, a deep and loud, menacing laugh that came from his chest.

"You may think of me as your judge, jury and executioner," he said. "You've got guts kid."

"You aren't much of a judge," Ron said. "You won't hear my side."

"Do you have something to say in your defense?" The Judge was interested now. Ron could tell that he was listening intently.

"What do you want from me?" Ron asked, nearly out of breath. The Judge leaned in so close to Ron's ear, Ron could feel his disgusting moist breath on the side of his neck.

"Your spirit," he whispered.

And then there came the pain. That horrifying agony, which rose above him like a towering, merciless beast, milking his heart of the valued life energy. It's terrible eyes bored into the depths of Ron's soul like a powerful drill, burning him from the inside. It's teeth ripped at his flesh, the venom seeping into his blood. Its cry was the pounding of blood in his ears, rendering him deaf to anything else, even the sadistic laughter of the Judge. It's claws tore at the fiber of his being as it hissed threatening words into his ear. It slowly drove him mad with it's horrible hissing.

And then, the hissing halted and there was deafening silence. Ron was leaning as far forward in his chair as his binds would let him. Slowly, the shadows came into focus. They were watching Ron, anxiously, muttering to themselves.

"Are we ready to talk yet?" asked the Judge, amused.

"I'll talk," Ron panted. "I'll talk. I'll talk about... my sister. You know, Ginny's a very talented girl, she–"

There was a quick slapping sound and Ron's head began to spin. The Judge had struck him across the face.

"Tell me, Ron," said the Judge. "About your relationship to Harry Potter."

"Never heard of him," Ron said, breathlessly. Whack! Another slap.

"Everyone's heard of Harry Potter," the Judge said. "And you are especially _close_ to the boy, are you not?"

"I've seen him around, if that's what you mean," said Ron. Finally, he looked up at the shadow of the Judge. "But he doesn't talk to me. Nope, hasn't said anything substantial to me all year."

The Judge had pulled out his wand to torture Ron again but Ron pleaded with him. "No, I mean honestly! He really hasn't told me what's on his mind!"

The Judge put away his wand. "And why has he been so closed with you, his best friend?"

"I don't know," answered Ron, honestly.

"Tell me, Ron," the Judge said. "How has the death of his godfather affected your friend, Harry?"

"What, you mean that Black fellow?" Ron said. "Harry barely knew him. He knew Black had been a close friend of his father's and all, and they were friends but... Not that much. I mean, sure, he was affected, but Harry isn't one to get emotionally attached to people. Hey listen, I have a favor to ask of you. See, I have a broken rib, and it's really killing me, I was wondering, could you–"

The pain shot through his body like a lightening bolt as every muscle in his body screamed and the anguish squeezed his heart with ice-cold hands. His head pounded with agony and he heard the blood rushing in his ears like waterfalls. He screamed louder than he had ever screamed in his life. He wanted to die, he wanted it all to end…

And then it did. Ron's head was hanging down again, and his hair was covering his eyes.

"Don't lie to me, kid," the Judge said, angrily. "I can tell a lie."

"I hate you," Ron spat in utter disgust, staring at his feet. "I would never tell you anything."

"I see we have reached our limit for today," said the Judge with a sigh. "We'll see you some other time, Ron."

The door opened and light crept in. The Judge left and the door closed and all was black again.


	4. Dark Dreams

Chapter Four: Dark Dreams

Your smile reminded me of...

The letter arrived late at night as a familiar tawny owl gave a quiet hoot and tapped discreetly on the window of his dormitory. Harry looked up from his Transfiguration text book and smiled.

"Hermes," he whispered, going to open the window. "I've been expecting you." Hermes obediently stuck out its leg and Harry untied the letter from it. "I'm sorry, boy, but I don't have any treats on me." The owl seemed to glower at Harry, disappointedly, but no more.

Harry sat on his bed and went under the covers. "_Lumos!_" he muttered, and read the letter by wand-light.

_

> Harry–
> 
> Though unethical, your request is not uncalled for in the slightest. Consider this, shall we say, 

_"bending the rules"_ my apology for underestimating you last year. Enclosed is the complete list of missing wizards that has been reported to the ministry in the past six months. I will not ask what you need these names for, because I know you wouldn't tell me anyway. I have enchanted the parchment to help you in your search, whatever that may be. Tap your wand to a name and a physical description, as well as details of their disappearance will appear on the right side of the page. In some cases, you may find personal notes, such as possible leads or theories onto what happened to them. Do not be startled to find that next to some names, the words 'possibly deceased' may appear at the end of their report._

Hoping to be helpful,

Percy Weasley

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

* * *

Harry was often tormented by nightmares. But none like these. Dreams of a dark room, with flickering shadows, half there, half not. Dreams of Ron slumped pale and raw in a chair, half dead, half not. And whispers wishing he could be.

"End it," Ron would say. "Just end it now."

These dreams disturbed Harry to no end. He almost didn't want to go to sleep at night. But he didn't tell Hermione. The last thing he wanted to do was upset her. She was trying so hard to make him happy, and he could tell she was just as stressed as he was.

It was very early morning, and Harry had just awoken from one of those horrible dreams. He decided to go to the Quidditch field, because he had practice soon anyway. He couldn't go back to sleep, for he knew that dank dark room would be waiting there for him.

But there was something else waiting for him when he reached the Quidditch field.

A tiny figure sat in the stands, hugging her knees. Harry probably wouldn't have known who it was if it wasn't for her vivid red hair. Curious, Harry went up to see the girl.

"Couldn't sleep?" he asked. She looked up and smiled wanly.

"No," she said, frozen tears streaked on her face. Harry looked down at his shoes, then back up at Ginny.

"Me neither," he said, sitting down next to her. "You know who's subbing for... Who's playing keeper?" he asked her.

"I got Dennis to do it, but he's awful really," said Ginny, sadly. "Do you remember when you gave me the captaincy?" Ginny asked him, looking up at Harry. "You remember Ron?"

Remember? Of course he did. With Angelina, Katie and the Weasley twins graduated, four new spots had opened on the team. Ginny had taken one of the Chaser positions, allowing Harry his old place as Seeker. Seamus Finnegan stole the second position away from everyone. Harry had never seen such a flier! As for beaters, two vivid (and violent) third year best friends, Andrew Greggo and Lawrence Carter, rose to the challenge. Andrew was especially young, only twelve years old. Meanwhile, Ron had kept his position as Keeper. As for team captain... all, including Alicia Spinnet, the remaining Chaser, had elected Harry as their new team captain. However, Harry resigned his title to Ginny, who had been utterly shocked to receive it. Harry had seen tremendous leadership skills in that girl, but he'd worried that Ron would be upset that Harry hadn't given the title to him. But when everyone was applauding Ginny, Harry'd looked over to Ron to find him beaming brighter than any of his teammates, and clapping twice as loud. He was proud of his sister.

Ginny sighed, sadly, looking up at the fading stars.

"Where is he, Harry?" she said, longingly. "Where is my big brother?"

"I really wish I knew," Harry said honestly. "If I did, believe me... Things would be different. I would do everything in my power to find out that he was OK, and if he wasn't, to save him."

"You don't think anything's happened to him, do you?" Ginny asked. Harry looked away from her. He couldn't honestly tell her that he didn't. He knew that Ron wouldn't disappear of his own accord without telling anyone. Ron knew better than that.

"I thought so," Ginny sighed, dejectedly. Harry put his arm around her.

"Don't worry," he said. "It gets better than this. It has to."

Quidditch practice that day went surprisingly smoothly, except for the occasional messing around from Andrew and Lawrence, which was only to be expected. They often arrived at practice arguing, and today was no different.

They were late, as usual.

"... stupid git, I bet you wouldn't even be able to find your own knickers if your Mum didn't always lay them out for you," Andrew was muttering. Harry, Ginny, and the rest of the team was already waiting on the field, in uniform, for their beaters to arrive.

Lawrence hit his friend. "It's not _my_ fault I lost it, you twit!" he complained. "_Someone_ happens to be a slob, and somehow it got lost under your ruddy books!"

Andrew hit him right back. "Well then, I guess you don't want to share my _ruddy_ books anymore, then, do you?"

"Would you two stop it?" Ginny snapped, frustrated.

"It's his fault!" Lawrence and Andrew said simultaneously, pointing at each other. Ginny rolled her eyes.

"On your brooms, both of you!" she ordered.

"But Ginny!" Lawrence protested. "Aren't you even curious as to what we were fighting about?"

"Not really," Ginny muttered.

"Virginia, dear," said Andrew sappily. "We'd discovered something of interest to you and Mr. Potter here. Unfortunately, _this_ git lost it!" Andrew jabbed Lawrence in the ribs and he grunted and punched Andrew on the arm.

"Whatever," Ginny said, rolling her eyes and mounting her broom. "Harry, release the snitch, you two, get the bludgers."

"Harry, wait," said Andrew, holding up his hand. Harry watched the boy curiously. Lawrence was grinning next to him. Ginny fumed. She hated it when Andrew, a kid tree years her junior, challenged her authority.

"Virginia," Andrew began, with a business-like air to his manner. "Your brother..."

The blood was rushing to Ginny's face.

"How dare you even–"

"Hear me out!" Andrew held up his hands, defensively. "Listen. We were in Hogsmeade the weekend Ron Weasley disappeared. Anyway, Larry and I took to our ritual exploring of the village. We stumbled upon an alley at the far end of the village, one we hadn't yet discovered and went down it. Full of old, broken down shops and found out that the alley got narrower and narrower until it was a dead end– or so we believe, it got so narrow, not even skinny Larry here could fit through. Well, anyway, at one of the wider sections of the alley we came across a tiny piece of evidence the Ministry seemed to have overlooked– a photograph."

"A photograph!" Ginny said, outrageously. "Oh, call in the cavalry, they found a _photograph_!"

"Patience, Virginia," said Andrew. "Anyways, if my stupid cohort here hadn't lost it, you would be able to clearly see that you and your brother were in this photograph." Andrew looked over at Harry. "As were you, Harry Potter."

Ginny went pale. Harry dropped his broom.

"With... With the Weasley twins and... And Hermione Granger?" he stuttered.

"Yeah, they're in it too," Andrew nodded at Harry, happy that they were taking him seriously.

"Yeah," Lawrence piped. "And some dark-haired fellow. Looked a bit like– Say, Harry, was that–"

"Shut up, Lawrence," Harry said, sharply. He looked over at Ginny, his heart stopping, only to find her staring right back. Harry could count every single freckle vividly standing out on her pallid face.

Ginny swallowed her fear and the color returned to her cheeks.

"Right, everyone, I want you all in the air in thirty seconds."

And they were. When Harry rose above the field, he was vaguely aware of anything else but the brisk December wind– and what Andrew Greggo had just informed him of. He watched the two beaters carefully. They were quite the dynamic duo, but they often goofed around, chasing each other during games, whacking the bludgers away from their teammates, but at _each other_. Harry remembered once being very entertained by a game of catch those two had been having with a bludger during a game with Hufflepuff. So entertained, in fact, that he'd missed the snitch fly right by him.

As Harry flew around, not really searching for the snitch, a horrid idea struck him.

He'd seen that alley Andrew had described. He'd seen it in his dreams and meditations; when he'd tried to reach Ron, that was all he could see.

And he'd had an eery feeling when he saw that dark alley. It was the same feeling he'd had last year when he saw that door at the end of the corridor– for he knew there was something beyond it that he had to see.


	5. Not Alone

Chapter 5: Not Alone

You're not alone. I'm not alone.

Ron was getting sick. If this went on for much longer, he was sure he would die of exhaustion.

"You can't give up now."

Ron laughed and looked up to see green eyes watching him anxiously.

"There you are," Ron said, with an ironic smile. "Standing right in front of me. And yet, there you're not."

"Don't worry," said Harry. "We'll tough this out together."

"If the Harry Potter I knew was really here-"

"I _am_ here!" Harry snapped. "I'm always here." Ron sighed.

"Neither of us should be here," he said. "But you don't have to worry, Harry. I'll never tell."

"It doesn't matter, Ron," said Harry. "It's stupid, really, the way you cling to that morose information."

"They want to use me against you, learn what makes you tick, your weak points," Ron said, dazedly. "But I'll never tell."

"Ron, if you know my weak point, you wouldn't be talking like this." Harry put his hand on Ron's sweaty and boney shoulder. "I wish... I wish I could stop this. I wish I didn't hurt you so much."

"You don't hurt me, Harry," Ron said, looking away. "I brought this on myself."

"Ron... sometimes I wonder, if I wasn't friends with you... if you'd be dragged into all this." Harry looked remorseful. Ron looked up at him and smiled.

"Harry," he said. "Sometimes, I wonder, if you weren't friends with me, if I could ever be this confident. Or this proud."

* * *

It was the first day of Christmas break. Harry had gotten the location of the alley in Hogsmeade from Andrew and Lawrence, who had been too happy to give it to him. He was supposed to go to the station, to get on a train to see the Weasleys. But Harry had a conflicting engagement.

As the students going home were lead to the train station, Harry snatched Hermione's hand.

"What?" she hissed.

"I have an idea," he said with an excited grin. Hermione's eyes doubled in size and she shook her head.

"Oh no you don't!" she said, reproachfully. "Not now, Harry, not today! What would Mrs. Weasley say? What will my _mum_ say? When she finds out that I'm wandering around– Harry, I want to go _home!_"

"I am home," said Harry.

"Your home is with the Weasleys," said Hermione, exasperated. "Now come _on!_"

"Not without Ron there it isn't," Harry replied. Hermione went silent. Harry knew he had to bring Ron up. It was the only way to get Hermione to listen to him. She hesitated, as if weighing the consequences. Finally, she sighed.

"Lead the way, Maestro," she said. She had at last resigned to Harry's persuasions.

"Great!" Harry said, grinning. Carefully, the two sixth years pulled away from the swarm of students. Harry led her past Zonkos and around the corner of the Three Broomsticks. Down one alley and past the next, Harry led her through a maze. Soon, the buildings became more dilapidated until it was obvious that no one could live or set up business in any of the dark, dank houses around them.

"This is amazing..." Hermione muttered, in awe, looking around at all the ancient abandoned houses. "It's like an entire hidden ghost town... One town built on top of the other..."

"Here!" Harry called, pulling Hermione by the arm towards a dark alley. "This is it!"

"I don't like the look of that alley..." Hermione said, doubtfully. "I can't see the end of it– and it looks like it's dripping with ill will."

"I can go alone..." Harry offered, realizing for the first time that he was dragging Hermione unnecessarily into trouble. His tone suddenly became hasty. "You don't have to come with me."

Hermione scoffed. "I've come this far, haven't I? Besides, you're never alone. Not with me here anyway." Hermione smiled and Harry smiled back.

"Ready?" he said. Hermione nodded.

"As I'll ever be," she said. And together, they slowly walked down the alley.

"Harry, how do you expect us to fit down here?" Hermione complained as the walls closed in on her. "Did I ever tell you I'm claustrophobic?"

"Relax, there's gotta be a way... Like Diagon Alley. You remember those bricks in the wall outside the Leaky Cauldron? There's got... to be... something... here..." Harry turned sideways and sidestepped down the alley. "Hermione?"

"Yes?" Hermione said, a few meters behind him (she'd refused to go as far as Harry).

"I think I'm stuck."

"Oh _honestly!_" Hermione rolled her eyes. She frowned, though as she saw a stone above Harry's head. It was different from the other dark gray stones surrounding it... it was a lighter color, and the only one with no moss growing around its edges.

"Wait a minute..." she whispered.

She noticed a pattern. That was the only light gray stone, but that stone was at the top of a staggered circle of other darker stones, all moss free. She brought out her wand and tapped each stone individually, going clockwise. When nothing happened, she went counterclockwise.

"Hermione, stop messing around, I can't–"

"_Shh!_" Hermione hissed, her brow furrowed in thought. "I'm trying to figure this out."

She then noticed that the stones she was looking at formed not only a circle, but a star as well. Taking a different approach, she started from the bottom left corner and drew a five-cornered star.

Suddenly, the alley widened and Harry fell clumsily to the floor.

"I hadn't been expecting that," he said with a small chortle, rubbing his head. But Hermione still couldn't see the end of the tunnel. She turned to Harry and smiled.

"Well?" she said. "Shall we?" She offered Harry her hand and he took it and she helped him up.

"We shall," Harry said. And they continued together down the alley.

* * *

"Are you still there?" Ron's eyes were closed.

"Yes," came a comforting voice from behind him.

"How long are you going to stay with me?"

"As long as it takes." The reply was quick and vague. Ron opened his eyes.

"I can't see you."

Harry stepped around the chair and into what little light there was.

"Is this better?" he asked. Ron smiled.

"I miss you," he said. Harry smiled at him sadly.

"I won't leave you," was all he said.

The door opened and light spilled into the room. Ron squinted, and then frowned.

"I've lost you. Where are you?" he asked.

A shadow appeared in the doorway. It was a lean figure, tall, and in a suit.

"You." Ron hissed the word with weary disgust. Ron saw the Businessman's teeth glint in the white light.

"Me," he replied. He closed the door. "_Lumos!_" he uttered. The light fell on Ron's sickly face. The Businessman made a clucking sound with his tongue.

"Looks like you have racoon eyes, Mr. Weasley," he said.

"Do I?" Ron asked, vaguely aware of his surroundings anymore. "I wouldn't know. I haven't seen a mirror in weeks."

"It's only been two weeks, Mr. Weasley," said the Businessman.

"I feel like I've been here for years."

"Well, why don't we shorten your sentence then?" The Businessman had such a sadistic happiness in his tone... Ron didn't like it.

"I can't give you what you want," he said. "I don't know Harry anymore. He's lost to me. I lost him a long time ago."

"That may be," said the Businessman. "But old fears die hard. They're funny things, fears. They aren't quite expressed until the possibility of their occurrence arises. We have been watching your friend, Mr. Weasley."

Ron raised an eyebrow, mildly curious. "Oh? And how is he? This betraying brother?"

"Quite the opposite of betraying, if I may say so myself," said the Businessman, obviously enjoying himself very much as he circled Ron's chair. "He's been deadly worried since you've been gone."

"You can't beat him," snarled Ron like a dog. "You will never defeat him. He's changed. Nothing can stop him now. He's a totally different person. He's not even human anymore. He's no better than Lord Voldemort himself."

The Businessman stopped pacing behind Ron. Ron could tell he had caught him off his guard.

"What?" sneered the Businessman, his lip curled.

Ron had slipped up. He knew he would eventually. And apparently, so had the Businessman.

"Tell me, Ron," said the Businessman, in a would-be friendly manner. "What has changed about Harry that would make him seem inhuman to you?"

"Humans have weaknesses," Ron covered, quickly. "Harry has none."

"But if Harry has no weaknesses because he is as inhuman as his foe," said the Businessman, diplomatically, "wouldn't that mean that the Dark Lord has no weaknesses either?"

Ron faltered.

"And," the Businessman continued. "If Harry is... shall we say, _inhumanly_ perfect, and Lord Voldemort is _inhumanly_ perfect, then should they fight... who would defeat the other?"

Ron's mouth was open, his eyes staring. He saw the shadows on the wall, green eyes watching from a distance, in the shadows, haunting him, comforting him, torturing him most of all. Always there, but always gone. Where had he gone? He had said he would never leave. And he had left. Where had Harry gone?

"You can't beat him," Ron said numbly. He closed his mouth and swallowed. "He has no weaknesses," he whispered, hoarsely.


	6. Appearances

_**Author's Notes:** I'm probably exaggerating Ron's heroic streak by making him endure this torture, which may make him a tad OOC. However, in all other respects, he IS in canon, and I would like to state that this exageration has been done purposefully as a symbol. Because I do believe that, if tested, Ron could withstand plenty of different kinds of torture. That was my English lesson of the day._

_Also, the italicized quotes at the beginning of every chapter are all from the same place, a source I shall not name til the end of the series. 100 cookie points to whoever guesses where I got the idea for Hermione's little alley sequence (Hint: it's a movie!). I'll be sure to mention the winner in the next chapter. Also, I'd like to see if anyone recognizes the quotes. Haha, a running contest. Good luck!_

Chapter 6: Appearances

How could a night so frozen be so scalding hot? How could a morning this mild be so raw...

With a single phrase, he had done it. Ron had given them all the information they'd needed.

"Mr. Weasley, can you hear me?"

But no, he couldn't. _That_ world didn't matter anymore.

The Businessman frowned, worriedly, as he snapped his fingers in front of Ron's eyes.

"Mr. Weasley! Answer me now!" No response. "_Crucio!_"

His body twitched like a corpse, but no more.

The Businessman turned to the door. "Avery! Avery, get in here! We have a situation!"

"What is it?" groaned the watchman, opening the door.

"The boy's gone catatonic on us!" hissed the Businessman, urgently.

"So?" said Avery. "Kill him."

"I can't do that!" said the Businessman. "He's given us next to nothing!"

"I'm sure I can drudge up a potion from somewhere..." muttered Avery, reluctantly. The Businessman was watching Ron, intently.

"I had no thought nor care for his psyche. But it seems it has been broken. There is no potion strong enough to erase psychological trauma..." The Businessman sighed. "But I suppose we can aim for a temporary solution. Just to make him coherent enough, maybe steal some Veritaserum from that rare potions shop in Knockturn Alley..." He started to make his way towards the door, muttering to Avery. He hovered in the doorway, conversing with the man.

"I have an idea of what's going on now. Our little friend's bitterness towards Mr. Potter is obviously genuine, which leads me to believe..."

Their voices faded as the Businessman walked away down the hall and Avery closed the door to the prison.

"What have we done, Ron?"

Harry stepped out of the shadows and walked slowly to his chair.

"What will become of us now?"

"We are lost," Ron said. "I want to go home, Harry." Ron began to sob.

"Shh," Harry said, soothingly as he rubbed Ron's slumped shoulder. "There's got to be more to it then this. They want more from you than me."

"They want _me!_" Ron said through his tears. "They will use me to get to you. To... to kill you. Imagine that, killed by you're best friend."

"How could they do that, Ron?" Harry said with a small laugh.

"They could. Imperious Curse, treachery, lies... I'd kill you outright if I go insane here."

"You are insane," Harry reminded him.

Ron was quiet a moment. "I wish you were here–"

"I _am_ here, Ron," Harry said sternly. "I'm always–"

"No you're not!" Ron screamed at the shadow before him. Harry's silhouette went cold and rigid as he stepped back from Ron. "You've left me here..."

"What's happened to you, Ron?" Harry asked, quietly, disturbed.

"I've died..." Ron uttered. He started coughing, and he spat out blood from his mouth as if to emphasize the comment. He then looked up, into those stone dark green eyes with nothing behind them. "And so have you."

* * *

Hermione looked up at the tall, mildewy stone walls and at endless path before them. 

"This isn't working," she said, frustrated. "This thing goes on forever."

"Do you think Greggo could have been wrong?" Harry asked, for once doubting his instincts. But Hermione turned to him and shook her head.

"No," she said. "We're just being pessimistic. Maybe... this only appears to go on forever." Biting her lip, she took off at a run. Harry watched her for a few seconds than chased her down the alley. Finally, she stopped and panted.

"We aren't getting any closer," she said, breathlessly. Harry agreed. Hermione frowned again. "Wait a minute..."

Hermione turned and looked at the walls a moment. "Something's not right..." When she found nothing on the lefthand wall, she turned to the right and looked at it long and hard. Finally, she smiled and strode straight towards it.

"Hermione, what are you..." But Harry stopped mid-query as he noticed Hermione had discovered a new passage. She turned to him and smiled.

"Well? Come on!" and she beckoned him in.

This new passage grew darker and darker and turned into a dank tunnel. Finally they came to a door. Hermione went to open it when Harry hesitated.

"What?" Hermione asked.

"I've seen that door before," Harry explained. "When... I tried to reach him... Ah!" Harry doubled over in pain, tearing at his hair. Hermione's eyes doubled in size as she imediately went to her friend's aid. His teeth were clenched as he held his hands over his ears.

"Harry, what is it?" Hermione asked, anxiously.

But Harry was lost to the screaming in his head. The demons lurking around the corner, in the shadows, whispering, conspiring, betraying.

"Who are your real friends?" they whispered. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm here to find Ron."

"Ron?" hissed the shadows. "Ron is lost to your world."

"But not to this one..." Harry said, slowly, half-way sure of himself. The shadows became nervous and Harry knew he was right. "Please," he said. "You've helped me before." The shadows seemed to exchange words before they answered.

"What do you want from him?" they asked.

"I need to save him."

"He is beyond salvation," they answered.

"Then I need to salvage what is left of him," Harry said.

"You always need to play the hero, don't you Harry Potter?"

Harry spun around at the voice. He noticed a familiar form with dead black eyes, twisting with the shadows.

"For once, why can't you let things be. You're walking into a trap."

"I know, Cedric," said Harry. "I've always tried to be a hero. But for once, just once, I'd like to know that I can actually succeed at it and save _someone._."

"Like you saved me?" Cedric hissed, coldly. "Like you saved your Godfather?"

The words stung, but Harry knew they were true. "Like I _tried _to save you," he said, painfully.

"What makes you think Ron is any different?" Cedric asked.

"Cedric is right, Harry." Another one. Harry turned and stopped. "You'll be trapped."

"Sirius..." Harry said. "I won't. I'm lost without Ron."

"I know you care about him, Harry," said the black-eyed Sirius. "But this is too dangerous for you. Tell Dumbledore, the Ministry, anyone. But don't do this to me, Harry, please."

Harry turned away from Sirius.

"You aren't who you appear to be," he whispered to the shadows. "What is your agenda?"

When he turned, Sirius had disappeared and the shadows remained, forever twisting and swirling like a black sea.

"We are the shadows of the unknown. Unanswered questions, unseen futures and unknown evils. We have no agenda."

"Don't do this to me, Harry," Sirius's voice came from the blackness. "I don't want to lose you."

Harry turned away from all of them and looked towards the light.

"I'm sorry, Sirius," Harry said. "But this is something I just have to do."

Harry opened his eyes.

"Harry, are you alright?" Hermione's eyes were pleading. Harry's expression was set.

"He's here," Harry said. "They just confirmed that for me."

And with that, they opened the door.


	7. Shadows to Light

Chapter 7: Shadows to Light

What was it about that night? Connection in an isolating age. For once the shadows gave way to light. For once I didn't disengage.

The first room they entered was windowless, but somehow full of harsh florescent light. Harry closed his eyes a moment and Hermione waited for him to make an assessment of the building. He took a deep breath and opened his eyes.

"Two guards are reading the Prophet in the room on the other side of that door," he told her. "Beyond that, there is a hallway with plenty containment cells. I don't know which one of them Ron is in. It is perpendicular to our next room, so we can either go left of right. Pacing up and down the corridor are about five other people. On either end of the hallway, there are two other rooms. The one on the left leads to another hallway, but I can't sense beyond that, I'll need to get closer. The room on the left contains a stairwell and leads to an office. But again, I can't sense beyond that. The office has three people in it, it seems one person is scolding the other two."

"What do you reckon this place is?" Hermione asked.

"I don't know," said Harry. "But I remember Percy saying something about a long list of missing wizards. My guess is that most of them ended up here."

"Harry–" Hermione started, bright-eyed, "we can't just leave them here. They're people too, what do you suppose–"

"Listen, Hermione," Harry said, taking Hermione's arm and leading her back into the alley. "I have a confession to make. I asked Percy for that list, and he sent it to me as a favor."

Hermione's eyes went wide. "You what? And he agreed?"

"Yes. But just listen," Harry said, seriously. "A lot of the people had some tie to the Ministry, or even the Order of the Phoenix. Even a few Aurors were missing. Ron was the first student of Hogwarts to appear on that list, but I discovered that Ministry officials didn't believe he would be the last. The papers Percy sent me were confidential, but he sent them to me anyway. They spoke of a very quiet theory that Lord Voldemort was kidnaping these individuals in order to gather information on the enemy before he made any rash moves. My theory? They're all being kept here. My plan? Leave them here."

Hermione gasped. "But Harry, I just told you, we can't! It's not fair! What do you think will become of them?"

But Harry's eyes were as cold as stone. "We came here for Ron and we will leave here with Ron only. We will tell Dumbledore about the others."

Hermione scowled. "Harry, don't you think they'll realize that Ron is gone and move or kill all these people here? By the time we tell Dumbledore, it'll be too late! We have to move now!"

"Hermione, it's too much of a risk!" Harry hissed. Hermione took a step back from him.

"What happened to you, Harry?" she asked, breathlessly, shaking her head. "You've learned caution at exactly the wrong time. If this were a year ago–"

"If this was a year ago, I'd probably get us all killed with my recklessness," Harry snapped. Hermione's eyes were deep and confused. Harry sighed and looked down. "Listen, if you want, I can send you to get Dumbledore now while I go on, but–"

"No," said Hermione, stubbornly. "I'm not about to leave you here. It's nonsensical."

Harry smiled. "If you'd have let me finish my sentence," he said, "you would have heard me admit that I need you here with me."

Hermione returned the smile. "We'll send him a letter."

"How?" Harry frowned. "We don't have an owl."

Hermione pulled a parchment out of her pocket and picked up a needle from the ground.

"Have you ever read Cinderella, Harry?" she asked.

"Yes..." Harry said slowly, as he watched her transfigure the needle into a Muggle's pen. Hermione looked up at Harry and smiled. She scribbled a quick note on the back of a Charms assignment that she'd kept in her pocket and noticed a broken birdcage leaning against the wall of the building they'd just exited.

"This is exactly like that," she said, as she waved her wand and whispered a few words. The cage turned into a magnificent, steel gray owl. Harry's mouth was open in a wide, impressed grin. Hermione turned to him, grinning herself.

"You're wonderful, Hermione!" Harry exclaimed. Hermione giggled.

"It wears off at midnight. We've got plenty of time." Hermione tied the parchment to the leg of the owl and watched it take off. She then turned to Harry. "Well, are we getting Ron back or what?"

* * *

"What do you mean you can't find the serum yet?" the Businessman glowered at the watchman and the man Ron knew as the Judge.

"Knockturn Alley is sold out," the Judge explained, angrily.

"We need that serum as soon as possible! Without it, our Mr. Weasley's mind will deteriorate and soon will be deemed unsalvageable!"

"What does it matter?" Avery asked. "You already know his secret."

The Businessman sneered over the desk at Avery. "Potter's weakness has always been his friends. I knew that from the very start."

The Judge looked confused. "But then why did you keep demanding that from the boy?"

"Why do you torture him?" the Businessman retorted. "As a means of getting _other_ information out of the boy, which I have now obtained."

"Oh?" hissed the Judge, bitterly. "And just what _is_ this information, Nott?"

The Businessman looked smug. "Ron's bitterness towards Harry Potter leads me to think that something _has _come about to change their friendship... and with them separated from each other, poor little Harry must be feeling awful. And especially without his best friend by his side again, he must be feeling dreadfully guilty. Weasley's murmurings and other behavior also leads me to believe that the change is recent, probably something Potter is doing to strengthen himself, prepare himself, whatever it is, which has pushed Weasley away from him. One is always weakest when they are training. So, I say what better time to strike then now, when the poor angst-filled teen has so much emotional trauma."

"Have you informed our Lord?" Avery asked with a horrid grin.

"I sent a letter immediately after I made my final analysis," said the Businessman. The Businessman closed his books on his desk, then hesitated.

"Avery!" he whispered urgently, sniffing the air with his large nose. "Something is amiss." He began to grin.

"What is it?" Avery asked, excitedly. "A rat?"

"I don't know," the Businessman said. "But our alarms have been tripped. Call the Dark Lord. Now."

* * *

The two guards in the next room were incredibly easy to subdue.

"Something isn't right," Harry said, suspiciously, looking from the unconscious guards, to his anxious companion.

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked.

"That was almost too easy," Harry explained. He closed his eyes a moment and concentrated. "The hall is now empty." he said, curiously.

Slowly, Hermione opened the door that led to a long hallway.

"Which way?" Hermione said. "Left or right?" Harry bit his lip a moment.

"Right leads to the office and stairway. Something tells me Ron is on this floor. Head left."

Hermione looked at the white tiled halls and steal doors. It reminded her strongly of a mental institution.

"Is Ron in one of these?" she said, then added nastily, "Or is it all the other people we're not going to save?"

"I told you," Harry said sharply. "We'll get to them later."

Harry broke into a sprint down the hall when he was in front of the next door, he paused.

"No one in the next room either..." he whispered. "I wonder what they're up to..."

"They know we're here," said Hermione with paranoid eyes. Harry looked at her long and hard.

"The hallway after it is empty too. This one has no containment cells on either side. At the end of it, there's one last containment cell. It's dark and black and cold. It's bleakness prohibits me from sensing any life forms within it. I have a feeling that's where we will find Ron."

They ran through the next room and the next corridor. When they reached the end of it, Harry turned to Hermione, sweat forming on his brow.

"This is it," he said, excitedly.

"This is it," she repeated, looking terrified.

Slowly, Harry twisted the doorknob. His scar began to burn like wildfire and he pulled away with a gasp of pain.

"Harry?" Hermione cried, concerned.

There was a burst of light and the door flew open. The room was flooded with darkness from the room beyond. In the doorway stood a lean man in a business suit with a crooked nose.

"Harry Potter," sneered the man. Harry held his wand firmly.

"Hermione, stay back," he ordered, throwing his arm out in front of her. "We've come for my friend."

"As we had no doubt you would," said the Businessman. "But he is lost to you now, Potter. He's gone catatonic, and there's no bringing him back to this reality."

"You wanna bet?" Harry challenged. The Businessman smiled a crooked grin as his cronies came up from behind him. Harry realized just how much trouble he had gotten Hermione into.

"Don't worry," said the Businessman. "We will just keep you both here until the Dark Lord shows up and tells us what to do with the two of you. He'll be here soon, you won't need to wait long. He's always punctual. _Stupi–_"

"_Expelliarmus!_" Hermione's voice roared like a lioness in the dark and the Businessman was disarmed. However, the man behind him caught the wand easily.

"It's not that easy, I'm afraid," laughed the Businessman. The large man behind him stepped forward and grinned.

"I know you," Hermione gasped. "Macnair!"

Harry recognized the man Ron knew as the Judge as the executioner who had been expected to kill Buckbeak nearly three years earlier.

The man merely gave Hermione a twisted grin.

"Now," said the Businessman, rolling up his sleeves. "This shouldn't hurt a bit."

"Leave those children alone!" Harry and Hermione turned at the voice.

There, in all his glory, and flanked by Aurors and members of the Order of the Phoenix that Harry and Hermione recognized instantly, stood Albus Dumbledore. Perched on his arm was the steel owl Hermione had used to send her letter to him.

"_Pulles Mortifer_!" shrieked Tonks, stepping forward and aiming her wand directly at the Businessman. The Businessman shrieked in pain as his hands flew up to his face and ugly boils began to appear. The other Death Eaters backed away from the man as he clawed at the puss-filled blisters covering his skin.

At that, the curses began to fly between the Aurors and the Death Eaters.

Harry pushed Hermione out of the line of fire and pulled her to the floor. He turned to her hurriedly.

"Listen," he told her, quickly. "That guy was telling the truth. Ron's not quite right... But don't worry!" Harry saw the horrified look on Hermione's face as it drained of color. He had never seen her look so devastated. "I can fix this. I know I can. I have to fix this."

"It sounds like..." Hermione said, breathlessly. "You're trying to convince yourself, not me."

"That's not the point," Harry snapped, furious because he knew she was right. "I'm sorry... But I just need some time. Just buy me some time."

"I'll watch your back, Harry," Hermione vowed, clutching her wand in her shaking hand. Harry smiled.

"And I wouldn't want anyone but you there, Hermione," he said, honestly. Hermione nodded, a new boost of confidence rising within her.

"Except," she reminded him with a hopeful smile, "perhaps... Ron." Harry couldn't help but agree.


	8. Huddled in the Dark

Chapter 8: Huddled in the Dark

The heart may freeze... Or it can burn... The pain will ease, if I can learn. There is no future, there is no past. I live this moment as my last!

Got a light? I know you... You're shivering!

Harry dropped to his knees in front of Ron's chair. Hermione closed and locked the door behind them with a charm. And all was dark.

"_Lumos_!" Hermione whispered. She focused the light on her two friends in the center of the room.

"Untie him," Harry ordered, looking directly into Ron's unseeing eyes. Without a word, Hermione cut Ron's binds. He sat, rigid. Harry took Ron's hands in his.

"Ron," he whispered. "Can you hear me?"

There was a loud crash and Hermione gasped as something was thrown against the door. She looked at it worriedly.

"Probably just a body hit with a strong curse," Harry explained, quickly, still looking at Ron. Hermione shot him an annoyed look.

"Is that supposed to reassure me?" she snapped. Harry turned to her and actually smiled.

"It might be a Death Eater, if that helps. Now quiet," Harry said, calmly, and Hermione fell silent. She hadn't seen Harry smile in weeks and, under these circumstances, that was a very good sign. He seemed confident.

"Ron," he said again. "It's me, Harry. Can you hear me?"

Hermione snapped her fingers in front of Ron's face. Ron's eyes were as dead as glass.

Taking a deep breath, and still holding Ron's hands, Harry closed his eyes.

It was exactly the same as the room he had just left. Except Hermione wasn't there.

Harry stood in front of Ron, who was looking down in defeat. Ron looked up at Harry and laughed.

"You're still here?" he said. Harry watched him, inscrutably.

"Was I here before?" he asked Ron. Ron smiled, bitterly.

"What, have you forgotten?"

"Ron..." Harry started, quietly. "You've been here too long. It's time to go."

"Go where?" Ron asked, looking past his friend at something invisible to Harry's eye. "Die?"

"No!" Harry cried, making a move to go towards Ron. But he stopped. "No," he said, calmly, restraining the urge to run to his friend. "To go home."

"I thought you said I couldn't go home?" Ron said.

"I never said that," Harry said, shaking his head slowly. He took one step forward. "Ron, you're sick," he said, concerned.

"Yeah, I know," Ron muttered. "God, Harry, I wish you were here..." tears began to form in Ron's eyes. Harry looked terrified.

"You don't believe me..." he whispered, just realizing it. "Ron... Ron, it's me! Can't you see? I'm here now! I'm just sorry I couldn't get to you sooner..."

Harry touched Ron's shoulder, but Ron pulled away.

"Don't touch me," Ron said disdainfully. "Don't ever touch me."

Hermione gasped as she saw a tear escape Ron's eye and travel down his cheek. She had never seen Ron cry before... She looked at Harry. His hands seemed deadly tight as he held Ron's.

There was another loud crash and Hermione jumped. People were screaming curses outside the door. They were trying to break in.

Hermione held her wand and prepared herself to try and hold the door with all the strength and spells she could muster.

"Ron, take my hand," Harry said, offering it to the boy. "Don't you notice? You're untied."

Ron looked down at his arms, and at his chafed wrists, confused. "Do you know who did that?"

Ron looked up at Harry, expressionless, waiting for an answer.

Harry smiled. "Hermione," he said. "She's here too. In fact, I think she's right next to you."

Ron slowly and casually turned his head to his right and for a brief moment, he saw a girl, aiming her wand at the door, her magic trying to keep it closed. Ron blinked and looked back at Harry quickly, baffled.

"I'm scared, Harry."

Harry laughed. He'd made a break through. He kneeled by Ron's side and took his shoulders.

"I'm scared, too," he admitted. "But it's time to go home. Look at me."

Ron looked up and into Harry's eyes. He was startled to see that they weren't empty. They were full of fear and regret and other emotions Ron couldn't place. He gasped.

"Harry..."

Harry grinned. "Ron."

Instantly, Ron flung his arms around Harry and the two friends shared a brotherly embrace.

"Come on," said Harry, smiling sincerely. "Take my hand. I'll take you home."

There was a burst of light as the door flew open and Hermione was thrown backwards and hit her head hard against the wall.

Harry blinked and looked up at Ron, who looked absolutely terrified. Despite it all, Harry was still smiling at him. He swallowed the lump in his throat and refused to let the tears come. But Ron, it seemed, didn't care for once.

"I missed you, mate," he said, quivering, the tears streaming down his face. Harry took Ron's shaking, skinny and pale body in his arms once again.

"Harry!" Hermione shrieked breathlessly from the wall she had hit. "_Stupefy!"_

Harry turned in time to see Macnair fall to the floor from Hermione's spell. He'd been about to attack Harry and Ron. Eyes wide, Harry turned to Hermione, who was leaning against the wall, her eyes closed, breathing heavily. He looked back at Macnair on the floor. He then looked up at Ron.

"By the way," he said. "There's sort of a battle going on."

But Ron was looking at Hermione.

"I don't have a wand," he uttered.

"Take Macnair's," said Harry, handing Ron the fallen Death Eater's wand. But Ron shook his head.

"What about Hermione?"

Harry glanced at Hermione and bit his lip. "She'll be fine," he said, but Ron could see the doubt in Harry's eyes.

"Harry!" It was Lupin. Harry recognized him immediately. Harry stood up. Lupin looked past him and smiled to see Ron, awake. "This is no place for students." He ran to the corner where Hermione was resting, while firing the occasional curse behind him at advancing Death Eaters.

"I've got you covered, Remus!" came the gruff voice of Mad-Eye Moody from the throng of Death Eaters and Aurors. Lupin lifted Hermione in his arms.

"Ron!" he called. "Can you walk?"

Ron stood on twig-thin legs, and Harry immediately helped support him.

"He can try," Harry replied for him. Lupin hurried toward them with Hermione.

"Take this," he ordered, holding out a pocket knife. Harry frowned, but Lupin reassured him. "A Portkey," he explained.

Harry and Ron both took hold of the pocket knife and Remus held on tight to Hermione.

Before they knew it, they were in the Hospital Wing at Hogwarts.


	9. Another Day

Chapter 9: Another Day

There's only us, there's only this. Forget regret, or life is yours to miss. No other road, no other way. No day but today.

**__**

Forty-seven missing wizards accounted for:

Army of Aurors said to be our heros

Throughout the year, since He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's return was publically announced by the Ministry, wizards and witches have been disappearing left and right. Yesterday, two students of Hogwarts broke away from the throng of adolescents making their way to Hogsmeade Station and instead went to explore an old alley where they discovered that their friend– and about forty-six other missing persons– were being held captive.

The names of these two daring adolescents? Hermione Granger and, our one and only teenage hero, Harry Potter himself.

On the verge of being killed, Harry and Ms. Granger were rescued by no other than Albus Dumbledore himself. Dumbledore was accompanied by an army of Aurors, including one renowned and retired Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody and the rising young Auror, Nymphadora Tonks. They were joined by gallant Ministry members (such as Kingsly Shacklebolt and Emmeline Vance) and even old staff members of Hogwarts (Remus Lupin).

Among those rescued was the personal secretary of Cornelius Fudge, Meredith Waters, discovered to be on the brink of death. The daughter of the French Minister of Magic was also discovered, as well as plenty of other close friends of Ministers around the world.

Of course, the youngest victim saved was sixteen-year-old Ronald Weasley, who was said to be catatonic when found. Weasley is said to be on the road to recovery at Hogwart's Medical Ward and is expected to be recognized by Dumbledore for his efforts.

As to who was behind the kidnappings, the Ministry is not commenting, although it is speculated that it is none other than He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. No information to support this theory has yet been released.

---

"Would you look at that?" Hermione exclaimed. "It seems as though you're the only person who's on a first name basis with the wizarding public, Harry."

Harry smiled wanly. "Yeah, but I think I was only mentioned once. That's gotta be a record."

"That's just because so many people were involved," Hermione explained. "And they have a limit as to how much they can write. They wanted to write more focusing on you, but I think they'd rather save that for the Quibbler."

Harry turned to the other hospital bed to see that his friend's back was to him.

"I just think that Ron could give a better story..." he said. He then turned to Hermione and smiled at her. "By the way, I never got to thank you."

"For what?" Hermione frowned, confused. Harry laughed and shook his head.

"For saving my life, of course!" he said. "Thanks."

"I didn't do anything special," Hermione said, modestly. "It's a simple curse these days and..."

"Not _just_ that," Harry said. "You also came with me. If you hadn't have come, you _know_ I would have charged in there, thinking myself a match for a team of Death Eaters. Dumbledore wouldn't have showed up either. Hermione, admit it. I may be good as far as mental magic goes, but it seems my common sense has taken a turn for the worse ever since I started my training. I've been thinking, maybe you and Ron are right, maybe I _should_ tune it done a bit."

Hermione looked down at her bed sheets, then back up at Harry.

"Even I have to admit it, Harry," she said. "It was your mental magic that first realized Ron was gone. And it was your mental magic that brought him back. You can't forget that."

"Of course not," Harry replied. "I'm not saying I should stop all together. Just... start remembering that I have homework every once in a while."

Hermione smiled and Harry was glad to see her do so.

* * *

Harry leaned back in his chair by Ron's bed. Madam Pomfrey had released Hermione from her care earlier that day, but she had refused to leave Ron's side.

"The reason you were here in the first place was exhaustion," Harry said.

"Don't forget the nasty gash I got on my head from that explosion," Hermione added.

"Yeah, but you need sleep. Good, long, healthy sleep in your own bed in Gryffindor. That magic you used– it drained you. A lot." He smiled at Hermione. "You've gotten stronger. It takes a lot of power to keep a door closed against armies of spells trying to shoot it down. It might have killed you."

Harry waited to see how heavy his words would weigh on Hermione's mind. He remembered when he'd first realized what the words 'it might have killed you' really meant. It meant that he was lucky. It meant that he escaped with only a sample of what could have been. _And it meant,_ he thought to himself, _that I might not have been able to be here today to warn Hermione of the danger a battle with Death Eaters really holds._

"I know that..." Hermione said, slowly, looking down.

"Do you?" Harry asked. "For the longest time I heard the words but never understood their meaning. Killed. Me? I'm just a kid. Kids die, Hermione. Look at Cedric."

"I _know_!" Hermione snapped, glaring at him angrily. "You think I don't get it, Harry. Why do you always patronize us? We know what it means to put our selves in danger, to actually risk death. Ron and I, we both understand the circumstances. But you think that would scare us away from helping you? If anything, it would encourage us." Hermione paused as Harry watched her with mild surprise, mouth half open.

"I don't want you to die, Harry..." she whispered with a slight whimper. She turned away from him and watched the moon outside the window. "And I don't think Ron does either."

Harry coughed. "That was, um, well-said, Hermione." Hermione smiled at him and looked at Ron.

"Maybe you're right," she said with a smile. "Maybe I should go back to the tower and sleep the week away."

"December twenty-third," Harry reminded her. She blinked.

"Has it really been three days?" she asked.

"You woke up briefly to read the news," he said with a curt laugh. "And do your homework for the vacation. You went to sleep promptly afterwards."

Hermione let out a long sigh and laughed at herself. "That does sound like me, doesn't it?"

"Don't worry," Harry told her. "Ron's been asleep just as long."

"At least he's sleeping," Hermione said, reassuringly. "Safe. Finally."

She stood up and looked from Ron to Harry, with a genuine smile. She leaned in close to Harry's ear, "I'll let you two be," she whispered, and left.

Harry looked at the sleeping form in front of him.

"It's over, Ron," he uttered, quietly. "It's all done. You're home.

"You were great. Really, you did better than I ever could. I can't believe you lasted as long as you did. They tell me that experienced Aurors could barely stand what you went through. And hell, Ron, you're just... You're more than a kid. I... you are... I love you, Ron."

He sighed, involuntarily. "Your parents are on their way, with Ginny, of course. And the twins, too, they're coming. And Bill and Charlie. And even Percy. They're all coming for you, Ron, all for you. We're all so proud of you."

Ron seemed to shift in his sleep.

"They'll be here tomorrow morning. I just hope you can be up by then. They'd love to see you, awake, talking, smiling. I talk too much, don't I?"

"Yes, if I may say so, you do."

Harry turned at the familiar voice to see a jaded old man still strong in spirit.

"Professor Dumbledore," Harry said with a light nod. "What are you doing here at this hour?"

"I'm here to talk to Madam Pomfrey about a wrick in my neck. More importantly, what are you doing here?" Dumbledore walked over to Ron's bed and sat down next to Harry.

"Talking," Harry sighed. "To myself."

"Oh, I'm sure you're doing more than that," said Dumbledore with a light smile. "I recently received a letter from Andrew Greggo informing me that it was he, with some help from Lawrence Carter, who produced the vital evidence that led to your little adventure. I suppose he wanted some credit?"

Harry laughed. "They found a picture. With me and Hermione, the twins and... And even Sirius. Ron carried that picture with him everywhere. When Andrew told Ginny and I where it had been, I vaguely remembered the area, but I needed them to help. They told me, in great detail where to find it."

Dumbledore nodded. "They will get the credit that is due, and I'm sure Mr. Greggo will be ecstatic to receive it. But you and Hermione were quite brave. Although, your reckless disregard for the proper order of procedures has been demonstrated once again."

"Hermione owled you, Professor," Harry protested. "We contacted you."

Dumbledore laughed. "Harry, there is no need to get defensive. You've grown to be wise, the three of you, and strong individuals. That was clever thinking on Hermione's part. The owl was bewitched to know its way home, which is how we found you."

"That _was_ clever on her part," Harry admitted. "I didn't know the extent of the spell. Only that it was over at midnight."

Dumbledore was quiet a moment as he watched Ron sleep. "Ron's lucky to have you and Hermione as friends."

"Believe me, Sir," said Harry. "We're lucky to have him."

"I know he'd appreciate to hear you say that," Dumbledore smiled softly. "Isn't that so, Ron?"

Ron stirred and turned to look at the headmaster, his expression sheepish. Harry was agape.

"You're awake?" Harry cried. Ron gave a small shrug.

"Have been a while now," he admitted. He then looked at Dumbledore. "But you knew that, didn't you, Professor?"

Harry turned and stared at Dumbledore, dumbstruck. Dumbledore chuckled. "Happy Christmas, you two," Dumbledore said. "And I hope you can join us for Christmas dinner."

As Dumbledore left Harry and Ron looked at each other a long time.

"Did you mean it?" Ron asked.

"Mean what?"

"All that you said to me." Ron then grinned at Harry. "You said you loved me."

Harry scoffed. "I never said that."

"You did," said Ron. "Yes, I distinctly heard you say–"

"I think you've been away in the dark for too long," Harry interrupted. But Ron was still grinning.

"I love you too, Harry," he said. "You're my role model, sympathizer, and best friend. You're my brother, Harry."

Harry was caught by surprise. He had never heard anything like that. Nothing anyone had ever said made him this happy to have such a friendship.

Ron's grin faded slightly and he looked down.

"It was hell in there, Harry," he whispered. "Worse than you could know. I imagined things. I don't know what they were."

"Shadows," Harry explained. "Shadows of things that might have been and could be. They're a neutral kind of magic, and they're everywhere. I learned about them. But in dark places, they can have dark intentions. As they told me right before I save you, they are the shadows of the unknown. Unanswered questions, unseen futures and unknown evils. What they didn't mention is that they are also the unknown good. You were dabbling in mental magic, Ron. You traveled to a place many get lost in. Dream Trails are one thing, but this, the Shadow Realm, it's difficult to find your way out again."

"And you went there," Ron said. "To lead me out."

"I did," said Harry. "I wasn't sure if I could. You were in the land of the insane. If you only knew how many people in St Mungo's were hospitalized because they dove too deep into that realm..."

"I never want to go there again." Ron was bitter as he shivered. "I saw you."

"You saw an image of me," Harry explained. "The shadows, manipulating. They wanted to keep you there. I wouldn't let them."

"They help you?" Ron asked.

"They do," Harry nodded. "They give me answers. Tell me things. But they're unpredictable."

"No kidding," Ron laughed lightly. "It's a dark place, down there. How do you manage it?"

"It's not always so dark," Harry said with a small smile. "Only where you were. There was evil there. But as I said, the shadows are neutral most of the time. But they can be swayed by dark places. Here, they are brighter than they were where we found you. So much negative energy there."

The friends were quiet a moment. Finally, Harry frowned in thought.

"What is it?" Ron asked his best friend.

"Dumbledore never did get his neck checked out by Madam Pomfrey," Harry said with a smile.


	10. Epilogue

_**Author's Note:** Well, it's the epilogue. I hope you enjoyed the tale. FYI, the quotes are from my all-time favorite musical, _RENT!_ The Alley Scene with Hermione sure there must be an end and her discovery of the second passage was inspired by the movie _Labyrinth_ with David Bowie and Jennifer Connelly._

_I also know that Dumbledore's speech is INCREDIBLY corny and long-winded. I suck at writing speeches. Also, I agree with Ron, it's too much, Dumbledore didn't need to say all that. But I was too lazy to write an alternative ending. So sorry._

Epilogue

There is no future, there is no past. I live each moment as my last. There's only us, only tonight. We must let go to know what's right. No other course, no other way, no day but today.

"Can you walk alright?"

"I can walk fine."

"You're sure?"

"Positive. I'm just not so used to walking anymore. Almost like I've forgotten how."

Harry warily watched as Ron limped down the corridor to the Great Hall. Ron turned to him.

"Harry, stop that," he ordered with a light smile. "Believe me, I can walk on my own. I have to get used to it anyway. It's not like I'm gonna trip and break my– oof!"

Something hard smashed into Ron and knocked the breath out of him. He felt a pair of arms wrap around his neck and tried to blow the extra red hair out of his face.

"Oh, gerroff me!" Ron stammered. "I still have bruises, you know!"

"I don't care!" came Ginny's sobbing voice. "It's you, it's you, it's really you. My big, stupid brother!"

"I could do without the stupid, if you don't mind," said Ron, trying to sound as indignant as possible and failing miserably as he hugged his sister in return. "Seriously, though, Gin, I do have some battle wounds... Ginny?"

The girl wasn't paying attention anymore. She was crying into Ron's shoulder. Ron looked past her at Harry, who was trying hard not to laugh.

"You were missed, Ron," was all Harry could tell him, with an added shrug.

"Ginny?" Ron tried again, prying himself free from his sister's grip. She quickly dried her eyes. "Ginny, let's just go eat and save the hugs for later."

Ginny smiled, her face as red as a tomato.

"The Gryffindor team will be glad to have you back, Ron," she said, very businesslike.

Ron threw his arm around Ginny's shoulders and ruffled her hair with a laugh.

"Come on, I'll walk you to the Hall." Ron beckoned Harry over and quickly threw his arm around his shoulders. "We'll enter as a family."

Ron paused and thought a moment.

"What is it?" Harry and Ginny asked together, collectively worried.

"Where's Hermione?" Ron asked. Ginny and Harry collectively grinned as they opened the door to the Great Hall.

Students staying over the holidays were scattered at smaller tables than usual, and all the teachers were wearing their Christmas crowns at the staff table, even Snape, although he looked rather disturbed by it.

Talking and laughing next to George at the small Gryffindor table, Hermione was clearly having one of the best Christmases she had ever had.

As they entered, Dumbledore rose from his seat. Hermione was the first to notice as she looked up at Dumbledore, then to the door. Her eyes lit up and she seemed to glow with pride and delight at the sight of Ron between Harry and Ginny. Slowly, everyone stopped talking, and one by one, they each stood up.

Hermione started to clap. She was joined by Fred and George, guests of Dumbledore for Christmas who had come with the rest of the Weasleys. Bill and Charlie were clapping too, with Mr and Mrs Weasley beaming with pride. Even Percy was there, clapping with the rest of them. Harry looked at his friend and noticed he was beat red. No matter how loud they clapped, Hermione seemed to be the loudest.

She ran up to him and threw her arms around him.

"I'm getting a lot of this today," Ron said with a small laugh.

"Oh Ron!" Hermione exclaimed, breathlessly. "We are so lucky to have you back."

"And I have you and Harry to thank for that," Ron said. "And I suppose the Order, and Aurors and–" Ron was interrupted by his own surprise as Hermione kissed him on the cheek.

She took him by the hand and, followed by Harry and Ginny, led him to the Gryffindor table with rapturous applause.

As soon as he got to the table, he was nearly squeezed to death by his mother. His father kept slapping him on the back and telling him how proud he was of him.

The twins trapped Ron in a headlock and roughhoused with him for a minute. They even gave him a gift. A coupon for their new joke shop.

Bill and Charlie patted their brother on the shoulder. Percy even went so far as to give him a hug. He followed it with a full, shameless apology for everything he'd done wrong to him. And Ron accepted it, unsure of what exactly he was forgiving.

It was a Weasley family reunion Harry hoped he never forgot.

"Students, teachers, and family members!" Dumbledore called out from the staff table. Everyone was quiet instantly. "There are many types of heros. And I am proud to say that we have many in this school, and many even in this very room. Some heroism is shown by courage in the face of danger..." Dumbledore looked pointedly at Harry. "...Loyalty in the face of one's own demise..." he looked directly at Hermione with a smile. "...Or even something as simple as a strong faith in their loved ones..." he aimed this comment at Ron's parents and siblings. "But the type of heroism I wish to recognize today was exemplified in Ron Weasley, a sixteen-year-old boy who withstood tremendous torment that Aurors twice his age have been destroyed by.

"Why did he resist so long? His strong will and morals, which bound him inextricably to his best friends. Ron Weasley is an example of everything heroism is. Courage, loyalty, cunning, determination, and most of all, faith. All these houses here stand for at least one of those traits, and faith is what holds us together. Ron has taught us all that the key element in heroism is faith. He believed in himself and in his friends. Without faith, we would all fall apart. Which is why I shall honor him with an award that shall hang not in our trophy room, but in our entrance hall for all to see reminding us all of the important things.

"Do not forget his valiant efforts. For he is an inspiration. If ever, God forbid, one of you in this room is ever in a situation such as one Ron was trapped in, remember him, and draw new strength. Thank you."

Dumbledore took his seat. Ron was almost under the table by the time he was finished.

"Come on," said Harry. "Let's get out of here and get to bed."

"Yeah," Ron happily agreed. "Honestly, Harry, this is too much."

"Nothing is ever too much," Hermione said grinning.

"This is," Ron replied.

"Let's go," Harry repeated and he, Ron and Hermione left the hall together, three best friends. As it should be.


End file.
